Roger had not worn many rings in his life.
Maybe his class ring in high school but I am not even too sure about that.
Or for how long.
And even though I proposed to him with his band as his engagement ring, he did not wear it until the wedding day.
I did tease him a lot about not wearing his "engagement" ring.
Like on a weekly basis or so.
But he insisted he wanted it to be special.
He wanted to wait until the official day.
It was so cool to see his band on his hand on our wedding day and in the days that followed.
It was a bit surreal.
It was a bit weird to hold his hand with it on but I enjoyed every minute of it.
He was mine.
We were together.
Forever.
Once summer hit last year though, a slight problem came up.
He complained his ring finger was itchy.
"Yes dear. You still have to wear it."
"But I think something is wrong."
"No, you just need to get used to it."
I did not believe him.
A few weeks later, Roger showed me these weird bumps under his ring.
"Hmm, what is that?"
"I don't know. Maybe you should go to the doctor."
"Do you think it is ring worm?"
"No dear. Ring worm is not on your ring finger."
Silly boy.
But I believed him.
There was a slight problem.
He did go to the doctor.
It was a fungus.
I felt slightly bad.
The doctor told him that he had to take off his ring when washing his hands and make sure his hands were very dry before putting it make on.
And then of course apply a medication.
It seemed water was getting trapped along with sweat.
It had become a slight haven for fungus.
Oops.
I remember telling him, "I do not want to hear how you forgot your ring somewhere at some restaurant."
Teasingly of course.
I knew he was not that type of guy to "accidently" lose his ring.
But he would sometimes leave it around the house.
I would pick it up and hide it.
To see how long it would take him to discover its disappearance.
Much to my surprise and delight, he would notice pretty quickly.
I would act all coy and slowly give it back to him.
After the accident and as soon as he arrived at the hospital, I wanted his ring.
I wanted his ring bad.
I was begging every nurse or resident that came to me to find his ring.
I knew they had removed it from his hand with all the CTs he was getting.
I could not fathom losing it.
I had to have it with me.
Not with some random hospital staff person.
But with me.
Once I had it, I placed it on my thumb of my left hand.
And left it there until it almost fell off.
As I washed my hands yesterday in a public restroom, I thought about Roger's ring.
I started to smile and giggle about Roger's ringworm.
Silly boy.
And for six months, he was mine.
All mine as shown on his left hand.
3 comments:
Oh, Mr. X! I dated him. I liked him. He's the one they named the movie ratings after, right?
You always manage to add something so unexpected in your posts. This was very sweet. I can almost see your hand...
LOVE
Supa
I wear my husbands ring right behind mine on my left hand. Mine keeps his on. Not sure when either will come off. . .
I *still* wear Charley's ring, at almost 4 years out. I put it on the middle finger of my right hand when the funeral director gave it to me --along with whatever few possessions (his car key? and I don't remember what else) he had in his cycling jersey when the medical examiner came and got him--right before I went in to see his dead body for the first and last time, a day and a half after he died. I wore my wedding ring--like you, I loved my ring crazily too--on my left ring finger until about 6 months out. And then I decided (for some moronic reason) that it was too painful or that it was time to stop wearing it, or something. So I put it on my right hand for a while and Charley's on my left middle finger. My sister and her husband bought me a ring about 7 months after Charley died, for Valentine's Day--a blue topaz, Charley's birthstone--and I wore it instead of my wedding ring, on my right hand. It just hurt less than seeing my beautiful ring on the "right" or the wrong hand and knowing he was dead, dead, dead. And like I moron--because I was healing oh-so-well, thank you very much, and because I was being a good widow and not holding on to my wedding ring for too long, coveting it or my dead husband for an uncomfortably too-long period of time--I chose to dismantle my wedding ring at the one-year anniversary of Charley's death. I took the diamond out and had it placed in a necklace. Which helped at the time, but now I wish I never had. I want it in my ring, dammit. Even if I don't wear it, I want it in my ring, not as a reminder of the brokenness of my life. (Don't you love the wild things that widows can think and how they change over time? ;o))
But throughout it all, Charley's ring has stayed on my left hand. For almost all of the last 4 years...even when I dated other people. Partially I wear it because it's just a plain white-gold band and no one will necessarily know Just What It Is, and I didn't like the other middle-finger ring I had. But really, I continued to wear it because I knew it was Charley's and--like Roger's ring--I knew what it represented.
I took it off for a month or two after I bought myself a new "me" ring for Mother's Day this year. I missed having my wedding ring, and on a whim (and in a fit of splurging without forethought), I bought my new ring and plunked it on my wedding-ring, left ring finger. So I wore a pseudo-wedding ring on my left hand and my Charley's-birthstone ring on my right ring finger, and Charley's wedding band went into my jewelry box. But before I drove to GP last week for Papa's funeral, I put his ring back on. It feels closer, more comforting to wear his ring, and I wanted him there with me in some oblique, symbolic way as we buried his grandfather.
And it'll stay there for the next week or two (if not longer), I can tell you!
(And sorry for hijacking your comments; apparently I'm blabbering today. =)) Hugs!
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